


When old lives die

by LouiseWolff



Category: Tomb Raider (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Diary/Journal, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Psychological Trauma, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-06
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 08:37:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 5,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2575061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LouiseWolff/pseuds/LouiseWolff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's skin stretched over steel. Even her eyes, once so eager and alive, are now cold and hard. She's all metal. Nicked, scratched, bent and broken steel, mechanic. She's alive till the sun sets, dead when the moon rises. (Sam's musings post-Yamatai.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Steel

**Author's Note:**

> This is sort of an experiment of mine, writing short but powerful chapters in first-person. I hope you like it!

She's skin stretched over steel. 

Even her eyes, once so eager and alive, are now cold and hard. 

She's all metal. Nicked, scratched, bent and broken steel, mechanic. She's alive till the sun sets, dead when the moon rises.

The first time I saw it, a scary thought came into my mind. The thought that not three of us, but four died on that island. Because this was no longer her. This was a robot with her face, its only goal staying alive. 

Nothing more.

Even when she looks at me, the one she said she did it all for, there's no light in her eyes. I shudder to think of her hardships, the things she was forced to do for me. She told me it was all me. I'm still not sure if she blames me or uses me as an excuse. Or, maybe, she's telling the truth, and she sacrificed herself for me. 

In a sense.

That's what scares me the most. Because I will never be able to repay her. I will never be able to look at her the same way, not while we're still haunted by the past.  
When I lie awake in bed, because sleep never comes lately, I whisper to her forbidden things. Things she shouldn't hear but I still imagine she does. Things of pain, wishes, 'could have beens'. I ask her why she's dead inside. Are her scars so deep? Is the old Lara still somewhere in there? Are our lives not enough?

But she never answers. Just stares at me with those dead eyes.


	2. Frost

I'm always cold lately.

Himeko's soul... God, she was as cold as death itself. So cold the blizzard around me felt like a light summer breeze.

Some part of me wonders if I really didn't die there. Frozen to death before Himeko could sink her claws into my soul. Hit by a stray bullet as Lara fought Mathias.

Whenever she looks at me it's like she's looking through me, you see. Like I'm not there. She doesn't smile anymore, not even with relief when she sees I'm safe like she used to.

I wonder if Himeko took a piece of Lara's soul too when she jumped between me and that horrible abomination of a body.

But I guess I won't know until she's ready to talk. Being her, I'm not sure I'd ever be.

All I can do is care for her, smile for her, live for her, and wait for that spark to come back in her eyes.


	3. Cracks

She's strong, Lara. I know she is. She knows she is. She just... I think she hates that she is now.   
  
She hasn't even cried. Not even when her wounds were disinfected. God, those wounds. I can't believe she's still alive! I'd have collapsed ages ago. And they're all my fault. Every bruise, scratch, cut, bullet wound, broken bone and burn is my fault. She keeps saying it isn't, that she got them before saving me, or that it was worth it.  
  
Nobody's worth that much.  
  
She says I kept her sane, kept her going.  
  
I could have killed myself right there and then.  
  
I had let myself get captured for god's sake! Yes, Lara got us there but we knew the dangers! We knew we were taking a risk! Still she blames herself, that's about the only emotion I can sometimes see breaking through those steel eyes; guilt.  
  
It makes me want to slap her and hug her at the same time. Maybe bawl my eyes out in her shoulder too.  
  
I don't deserve her.  
  
She'd hit me for even thinking that, heh. It'd sure be a nice change, angry Lara instead of stoic Lara...  
  
I miss her.  
  
I miss the old us.


	4. Change

The first time I set foot on shore, I felt this weird sense of relief and absolute terror at the same time. Lara did too, I think. The expression on her face was harder than usual, and that says something.  
  
It's just... on the boat we were safe. No-one could get to us. Our own little island, if you will. And now we were out on the open again, everyone could reach us, anything could happen.  
  
When medical personnel came to pick us up, I was afraid Lara would go crazy, that she would scream and fight and run as stranger's hands guided her away.  
  
But she didn't.   
  
She took my hand and waited, face blank, for them to come. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't pry my hand free. Her grip was absolute, not meant to be let go.  
  
I think it reassured her as much as it did me, maybe even more.  
  
I had never really noticed before, but her hands used to be soft, slender. They were rough and warm now, full of cuts and scrapes, twitching ever so often.  
  
She looks at them sometimes and I can almost see her wondering. 'Are these the hands of a killer?'


	5. Progress

The hospital was a miserable haze of pain and fear. Finally facing the true extent or Lara's wounds... It was hard, but she's stubborn. She has always been stubborn. As was she in saying that it wasn't my fault, and that I shouldn't drown in guilt like I tend to do.

I did it anyway, but silently, when she was asleep.

I never left her side, knowing that if she would wake without me immediately visible, she'd go on a rampage. I would if I woke up without her.

I made a joke about it, that we would have to send out invitations to our wedding soon. She watched me with this blank stare, but I swear I saw her mouth twitch.

 

Progress.

 

The only thing that had felt better than leaving the hospital was seeing Yamatai shrink slowly on the horizon. Lara agreed.

  



	6. Chapter 6

We've managed to escape the press so far, mostly due to my darling father and my awesome sneaking skills, or so I boast to Lara, hoping for that small twitch indicating she's amused.

I'm not sure if I can ever get a real smile out of her again, I feel as if seeing me reminds her of everything... But mostly the bad things. And that is only if her eyes are not looking through me, seeing ghosts of the past.

I've contemplated leaving, but then I see what she becomes when I'm gone for even a moment. So I always come back, take her trembling hands and hold her close till she's calm again.

Her body, mostly healed in the physical sense, has only now begun dealing with the emotional wounds. My savior, my warrior (she hates it when I call her that), reduced to a shivering pile of limbs.

She's afraid to be a burden, I'm afraid she will get sick of me. Irony seems to be a big thing in my life right now.


	7. Pride

We moved from our old apartment back to the Nishimura estate. Mostly to shield ourselves from the press, the gates and security around my family's property are definitely an improvement. But also because my father insisted he see me, and not just on a screen.

I've been so occupied with Lara that I completely forgot the rest of the world. Or wanted to, anyway.

Father also insisted on separate rooms, but I sneak into hers whenever I can. She is always so ridiculously relieved to see me, I've seen a few almost-smiles already.

She's getting there. I keep telling her I'm proud, but somehow she always shuts me out after that. I don't know why. 

I have this crazy suspicion that if Lara heals and accepts how she is now, she thinks that will justify what she has done, what she has become.

I know Lara, the old one at least, and the old Lara would have had plenty of rational arguments ready to convince a person in her conversation to get up and deal with it. 

But she is also stubborn and doesn't listen to herself. Or me, or anyone for that matter.

Perhaps she can't hear herself, maybe her head is full of thoughts and memories and 'could-have-beens', keeping her from sleep.

Or maybe.... Maybe that's just me.


	8. Fire

The fire. There is just something about the fire.

Sometimes I find her sitting in front of one of the fireplaces, the most secluded one she can find, burning the newspapers filled with speculation about her and Yamatai.

I can understand the satisfaction, I cannot understand the fascination. She just sits there, staring, for hours on end, even if there are just smoking ashes left.

Maybe the fire makes her forget, I realize one day when I find her there again, and then nausea swirls in my stomach.

Or maybe, it makes her remember.


	9. Baggage

Father insist we go out, face the world. He keeps telling Lara that she should do an interview, just one interview, to get the press off her back. She always walks out before he can finish the request, with me close behind.

Is it me, or is this strangely ironic? He asked me to come back, so he could see me. Now it’s like he wants me gone. Lara was just… baggage, to him. Something he had to accept if he wanted me back.

He used to like her, more than me it sometimes seemed, and she liked him too, almost like a father. Of course, no-one was as much as a father to her as Roth…

But nothing of that old camaraderie remains, it’s been replaced with cold tolerance. Just barely. I think, the only reason Lara is here now, is because I refuse to leave her side.

I shudder to think what she would do without me around. Knowing her, as she is now, it would be reckless and stupid and stubborn. Just like what I would do without her.

I’ve been sighing a lot lately, especially when I think of the future.

It won’t be easy.


	10. Screams

At first, she slept like the dead.

Lately her screaming wakes me. It’s not always my name, and it’s not always English.

I’ve been having nightmares since the first day we left that cursed place. Hell, I had nightmares when I was still on the island. But Lara, she always seemed so calm while asleep. Not a good calm, a calm like there was nothing left of her that could move, that could be.

Somehow her screaming gives me hope, because it means she feels again, because it means she is alive.

Sometimes I go to her when it happens, sometimes she comes to me, a shivering mess moving with little jerks, like memories are thudding into her limbs like arrows, making her bleed tears and screams and re-opening scars.

Sometimes I just listen, feeling my own pain press against my throat, fighting to get out.

And it might just be me, but her screams always seem softer when I’m there.


	11. Silence

We’re moving out.

Father can’t handle the unhinged miserable shadow of Lara Croft haunting his house anymore. His words, not mine.

He does not see what I see, I know that. To the world Lara Croft is dead, replaced by this shell that carries her name and legacy like a burden (more so than she did before). A shadow that people wonder about with their friends over a beer when they watch the news.

“Do you know what happened to that girl? The archeologist that disappeared in Japan and then returned all beat up and stuff?”

Nobody would know, so they’d shrug and move on to other topics.

I do think it would help. Maybe not telling the world, but... Telling me, or even saying it out loud to herself. What happened, what she felt, what she thought. The names of those we lost, the name of... of that place.

I know I’m not a therapist, I don’t have the patience or the compassion to listen to other people’s problems. I have enough of my own already.

And one of those problems is that Lara is not talking, and she _needs_ to talk. I probably have the best bet of getting something out of her but... I don’t know how.

One of my last conversations with father before we leave gets me a card with a name and a number. Now I only have to convince Lara to call.


	12. Sandwiches

Lara refused to use her family’s money to rent an apartment, so we went to the only place we could. The Croft manor.

The mansion is entirely too big for three people. It feels so empty and cold. At least Winston, that lovely old goat, tries to make the place as welcoming as possible.

He talks to Lara as if nothing happened, even though she mostly ignores him. He stays polite, never gets angry, seems to know exactly what to say to her. I know she’s denying it to even herself, but that look on her face when she turns and leaves... That look of bittersweet melancholy tells me that she enjoys his presence.

I make sure to thank him for her, and he always smiles and nods.

“I know. She’s always been stubborn, that girl.” He then gives me one of those piercing looks, one that does not match his age. “You’re helping her, you are. More than you think.”

I think that’s old-butler-speak for “You are the most awesome girl on this planet Sam Nishimura!”

I want to hug him, but I’m afraid I’ll crack his ribs and make him drop the platter of godly peanut butter jelly sandwiches.


	13. Ghosts

My nights are turning into quite interesting adventures. Lara is like a ghost, roaming the halls and rooms of the Croft manor day and night, sometimes she’s even awake.

Winston and I try to catch her before she does something stupid, like jump into the pool and forgetting how to swim, but usually she finds one of those portraits and she just... stares.

Sometimes it’s her father, sometimes it’s her mother. Sometimes it’s her.

I don’t know what thoughts are swirling around in that pretty sleep-depraved head of hers, and it makes me shiver to imagine. I wonder if she’s haunted by ghosts of the past, but I don’t know what part of her past. Perhaps she feels like a ghost herself.

I know I do, walking among those ancient artifacts, stirring dust that carries memories of those long-dead.

Winston’s tea and my presence make her seem less tense, and usually I can coax her back into bed after a while.

The walls muffle her screams, but not the hope they give me.

Maybe I need to see a therapist too.


	14. Memories

The moment I show the card father gave me, Lara explodes.

It’s glorious and terrifying, because she screams even though she’s awake, her face twists and swirls with so many emotions it makes me dizzy and a door slams into my face with such force it makes the windows behind me shake.

I’m breathless, because that’s the most emotion she has shown in weeks, and it makes me want to cry and laugh at the same time.

I leave her in her room, and she does not leave it for days, not even at night.

Winston is the only one allowed in, and he always leaves after barely a minute, tray empty.

I miss her, especially when I twist and turn in the sheets, staring at the ceiling and the walls and at nothing at all. I suddenly realize that I didn’t just help her, she helped me too.

I sleep more, but it is fitful. The idea of night alone turns my stomach into a sleeping vulcano of fear, waiting for the right moment to explode and turn me into a shivering mess.

I’m reminded that I was at Yamatai too, and those cold fingers, the icy wind, the soul-tearing agony of another presence within me are not just phantoms, but memories.

I call, because Lara makes me forget myself. I go, because without Lara I’m a ghost, just like her.


	15. Words

When I get back I’m trembling, raw. I feel like the only thing keeping me together is my clothes, and without them I would fall apart into a million tiny pieces that can never be put together again.

I walk past her, with her face infuriatingly blank as she stares at me in silence. I avoid her eyes, and I keep on going, away, putting as many doors and walls between us as possible so I can shake off that look.

But I can’t, and it haunts me for days.

I spend a lot of time outside in the gardens, going over the whole thing in my head again and again and again. Then I go inside, and she sits there, and I leave.

I even lock my room.

How can I ask this of her, when I’m falling apart in front of her eyes, and for her it’s so much worse.

I can’t even bear to say her name, even though it echoes around in my skull contantly. Lara. Lara. Lara. Savior. Warrior. Hero. Lara.

Friend.

 

The ironic thing is... I did not say a word.


	16. Numbers

The second time I manage to say “Hello.”

The third time I choke on the same greeting.

The sixth time I start crying and I don’t stop until I fall asleep, cluching myself to keep the hole from growing.

The tenth time I manage a shake of my head when the therapist asks if I’m okay.

The fifteenth time I take their pictures with me, I tell the man their names, and then I leave.

The twenty-first time I tell him everything.


	17. Lightning

“I’m worried.”

I turn my chair to see Lara stand in my doorway. Her ability to creep up on me has only improved after Yamatai. I almost flinch at that thought, envisioning her creep up on a faceless Solari and sink the axe into his neck- 

But I hide it, and frown. “About what?

“You.”

I scoff. She flinches, and I can’t help but feel guilty.

“I’m sorry Lara.” A part of me isn’t, and I think she knows. “But how can you worry about me?”

She frowns, genuinely puzzled, and I sigh, crossing my arms. I try to find words, but the only ones I find are hollow and leave a bitter taste in my mouth. “I mean... You... Don’t you think- Goddammit.”

There’s that twitch in her mouth again, and it makes me want to smile and hit her at the same time. I hiss out a breath. “I think out of both of us, you should worry about yourself first.”

Her almost-smile disappears so fast it hits me like a sucker-punch.

“Sam...” Her tone is warning, cautious. Dangerous waters are ahead.

“No, I mean it.” I grit my teeth, this has gone on long enough. “I can’t watch you destroy yourself like this. You alienate everyone who cares about you, even me! How am I supposed to help you if you do that?”

There is lightning in her eyes and thunder in her fists. The storm within her so intense she shakes with its rage.

A reckless stupidity overwhelms me, and for a moment my thoughts are right on the surface, pouring from my mouth in a waterfall of truths.

“I can’t take much more of this Lara. I care about you, believe me, I do, but if you keep pushing me away... After a while I’m going to stay away.”

She jerks back, blinks, uncomprehending. “What are you-“

“I’m going to leave.”


	18. Thunder

"You're-" Lara sways, gripping the doorpost with knuckles so white the bones could pop out any moment. "Leaving." She says the word as if it's foreign, incomprehensible.

"Yes- No! I mean-" Flustered, I scramble for what I was trying to say. "I'm not leaving right now. That's not what I wanted to- I mean, I'm going to leave if you don't start trying to get better."

A breath. "Maybe, eventually, in the future?"

She does not meet my eyes, so I take her hands instead. "Lara, honey, look at me."

Facing those twin storms makes me weak in the knees, so I squeeze her fingers, feeling the rough skin, tracing the horrible memories carved into her skin. "I need to know that you want to get better. I'm not asking for a miracle, I'm not setting a time limit. All I'm asking of you is to talk to me, let me in."

I'd perfected my puppy-dog pout years ago, and I can see her mental walls crumbling. "And maybe, eventually, you can let others in. But for now, I'm fine with just me, alright?"

Her eyes flick between mine, her hands limp.

Hours seem to pass. I'm afraid she'll disappear if I blink. I'm afraid of her hands growing cold and her face twisting into something cracked and painted and ancient. I'm afraid that I'm in one of my nightmares again, forced to face memories that I wish I could forget.

I almost smell the cold, salty wind, ice cutting into every patch of exposed skin as my breath is slowly stolen from my lungs. But suddenly I feel my mind pull back, and I'm safe, warm, dry.

"Promise me something." She says. The sound is grounding. The softness of it calming. The emotion in it worrying and almost unfamiliar.

The gaze trapping me is so intense the word 'no' completely eludes me.

"When I show you what I am. Don't leave me."

The words are so broken, a shattered reflection of the hunched woman before me, that I realize I could never leave Lara, even if it slowly killed me inside.

My arms wrap around her stiff form, and I don't know which one of us needs to hold on more.


	19. Muscles

Something has changed.

It feels like the first spring breeze after a long and harsh winter. I love the snow, of course. And the hot chocolate and stepping from the cold into a warm, cosy home, fingers numb and cheeks red. But the warmth, life and light of spring is something not even the reflection of a sunrise in snow can top, even through the lens of a camera.

“Hey, wait up!” There’s a burn in my legs and lungs that feels both good and bad at the same time.

“Maybe you should take a break.”

I look up at Lara, how she’s bouncing on her feet, her ponytail swinging with each switch from leg to leg.

“I will, after this lap.”

She may be stubborn, but I will not be left behind. I’m tired of being the damsel in distress. This time I’m going to rescue Lara, and this time it’s not a fight against an army of sleazy bastards or zombie-samurai or storm-controlling spirits, this time’s it’s a fight against inner demons.

I’m glad, I’ve never been much good in a fist fight. Or shooting arrows. Or any kind of fight with physical elements really. That always was something intricately Lara’s. 

I’m a killer at pushing buttons though.

“Okay.”

She is talking to me again. In fact, running together was her idea. I know in a way it’s because she feels like she should be in top-condition, for if the next insane body-snatching royal starts stirring up a storm. 

I stretch my tired muscles and manage a grin. “Let’s go babe.”

I swear I’m going to die saving Lara.

Those inner-demons better be fat and lazy.


	20. Anger

Baby-steps.

I keep telling myself that, but why do I still get so frustrated?

Yes, Lara talks again, whoop-tie-doo, but it’s at most one sentence, and the topic of Yamatai is very artfully avoided. If straight-up ignoring me and slamming a door in my face is considered an act of supreme creativity, that is.

I just want to brush my foot against her door in a very unladylike manner and get past that looming mountain. I generally do not like the awkward tension in our conversations… you know?

It’s.... disconcerting.

It feels like, what we have is not quite friendship. Not really, it’s more something like... well, like we’re roommates and are forced to live together and be civil even though we want to make each other eat our fists?

Not quite that violent, although sometimes I feel like she is imagining throwing me off of a cliff. Or, I shudder every time I get this thought, leaving me behind in the cold grasp of Himeko.

It’s insane, it’s unhealthy.

But I remember seeing her so broken, and I know she’s not angry at me.

Not really.

She’s mad at the world, at Mathias and the Solarii and Whitman and Himeko. But mostly at herself.

And you know what?

She should be. Angry at me. Because without me, this would not have happened.

If I had not been so weak... If I had not been so scared.

I call for an appointment, but my fingers dial a different number.

Sam?

“Lara. I- Can you please come?” I hate how small my voice is. I hate how it breaks on her name and every word. 

I hate how I need her while she needs me more.


	21. Rock

I hate being weak in front of her.

And no it’s not because of pride or wanting to impress Lara or my foolish promise to never be the damsel again.

I just know that every time I need her, she’ll be there. My rock, my fortress, my everything.

But she shouldn’t be. At least, I think so.

I’m pretty sure the amount of time we spent together is unhealthy for anyone not considered newlyweds. 

I don’t think married life would suit Lara. It just seems so… mundane. Like, she’s supposed to do great things and be all independent and strong and…

And I don’t fit in that picture, do I?

She’s my rock, but I’m her ball and chain.


	22. Hands

“I think you should do it.”

She looks up, startled, from the screen in front of her. Her hands twitch as if she wants to close the mail she had been reading before I can see it. But we both know it’s too late for that.

It’s too late for a lot of things.

“What?”

“I think you should go.” I let out a breath, hoping to ease the tight coil within my stomach.

I feel like, any moment now, I could be breathing my last precious mansion air.

She shakes her head, expression carefully blank. Does she still not know I memorized her face over and over by now? Every crack and angle is as familiar to me as breathing. “I don’t-“

“Don’t deny it Lara, I can be dense but even I can see you’re restless.” The words are sharper than intended, and my fingers uncurl, tugging nervously at my hair.

I suddenly realize it’s long enough for a Lara-sized ponytail.

Lara doesn’t say anything, but she looks back at the screen with a contemplative expression.

I hold my breath for several long heartbeats, time slowing to a near-stop as I wait for something to happen.

“The world is waiting.” I suddenly blurt out, and her eyes snap to me, seemingly more unguarded than…. Well, anything I can remember at this point.  
“It’s got so much to offer, so much good. And I’d hate for you to give that up for-“

Don’t say it. 

Seriously Sam do not say it.

Don’t f-

“Yamatai.”

The only thing telling me she heard my voice are her hands.

They press against me, fingers digging into my shoulder, scraping against the bone as I’m pushed back. Back through the air, stumbling over my own feet, senses swallowed by the darkness in her eyes, until I hit the wall.

It’s almost as if she wants to push me into the wall, merge me with the wood and stone of her family’s home. Eternalize me as a Sam-shaped indent in her study.

Everything in me is telling me to run. Danger! Pissed off Lara Croft! Do you have a death wish, you idiot?! Did you really have to say it?! Get out now!

But the wall shapes itself around me as I stand my ground.


	23. Breaths

I wonder if these are the eyes Mathias saw when he died.

I wonder if these are the eyes I will see when I die.

Worse fates could be imagined.

Maybe.

The stone wall pressing into my back is almost the same temperature as me by now, but Lara is showing no signs of backing down.

I’m not even scared anymore.

Just so, goddamn tired.

I stand, like a statue, waiting for an angry goddess to deliver judgement. Every breath taken is a treasure, every heartbeat a reward. I count them.

How long will they last?

Lara blinks, slumps a little.

“I’m waiting too, you know.”

She frowns at me, tilts her head to the side just a little.

“For you to leave.” I clarify.

The nightly screams have stopped. It’s only muffled crying now. At this point, that’s as good as I could have hoped for. But at the same time it is the most frightening thing, leaving me colder than Himeko’s touch ever could.

If she-

When she heals, she will have no reason to stay. I will be a liability. Her ball and chain. And I refuse-

35 breaths later my breath is taken away.


	24. Elephants

"Do you have everything?"

She fumbles with her ponytail in a way that is just so pure Lara it makes me smile, despite everything. Her eyes glide over the equipment.

"Climbing gear?"

"Check." I nudge the relevant bag with my toes.

"Extra clothes?"

I pull a showgirl and gracefully show off the black and brown (boring) bag with exaggerated hand-gestures.

She's not ready, hell, I barely consider her to be 'okay'. But the time for sleeping and nightmares is over. Some fears need to be conquered, which are probably famous words of some historical figure Lara drools over or whatever, so what better to than get out there and just… do it?

I never claimed my ideas were good. Or that Lara was ever entirely sane.

But I think, this time… This time will be different. This time we'll be different.

This time… well, actually a few weeks ago, I found a familiar card on Lara's desk.

She's talking. Not to me, or walls, which is basically the same at this point, but an honest-to-god living person. She's healing, she's….better.

Not perfect to the world. But pretty damn perfect to me.

"Entertainment?" I ask, teasingly.

Her eyes crinkle, and there's that almost smile again. It shows teeth nowadays. "I'm not sure, do I?"

I pretend to ponder the question as she waits patiently.

Only it's not patient. Her body is a book I've read a thousand times, and the tense set of her shoulders is telling a familiar story.

But, as she assured me many, many times over, I'm not her ball and chain. I'm her rock, her fortress, her, well… everything.

"Well, you'll have to do with the embodiment of fun and awesomeness."

She makes a non-committal noise and I throw one of the rolled-up sleeping bags her way. She barely catches it and I grin.

"That is, if you don't keep her away with your snoring. I hear the cold air tends to trigger that in certain people."

"I do not snore." The reply is gloriously indignant.

My grin widens.

"I do not snore!" I resist the urge to brush the stray hair from her face as I approach and take both her hands in mine.

"Babe…" I give her a smoldering look.

"You're worse than an elephant."

I really should stop challenging anyone with hands like that.

\- Sam, signing off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So... Here we are, at the end of Sam's story. I hope you enjoyed reading, and I thank you for your attention and love, it is greatly appreciated. Perhaps once I get to playing the new Tomb Raider I'll find some inspiration for a sequel, but no promises.
> 
> To give a bit of an explanation about why I wrote this story the way I did, including the ending: this story is meant to be one that gives the readers a lot of free reign to read between the lines. Many things are hinted at, a lot of things are left unsaid, which is (I hope), the strength of this story. Sometimes there are no hundred words needed to describe a picture, just the one, and the rest is all up to you. Just like in any horror movie or game, that which cannot be seen is the most terrifying of all. In that sense, that which has not been said is the most powerful part of this story.
> 
> I hope that this helps you understand the story better, as well as (retroactively) enjoy it more.
> 
> For those of you who stay faithful and true, there will be a small present soon. Have patience.


	25. Epilogue: Almost

We're two imperfect people in an imperfect world just learning how to deal. Literal and metaphorical mountains will need to be conquered, and, as I tend to do, ravines will be conquered thoroughly, with our bodies, falling.

Back to the point.

Healing is a funny thing. Sometimes it feels like it doesn't happen, and sometimes you look back and you've made so much more progress than you thought you were ever capable of. Nothing will be easy, I know that. Sleep is a challenge in itself. But having someone. Someone who understands, someone to scream with me, someone made of cold steel and warm skin, cracked and bent and broken, much like mine, someone to hold and be held, someone to take my breath away.

I can almost say Yamatai was worth it.

Almost.

\- Lara


End file.
